Curiosity vs Cruelty
by olderthanyouthink
Summary: Continued from 'Get in the Car,' Salle Silver makes a move. She's sworn to someone-don't know who. She needs to know things-don't know what. There's no info on her-don't know why. And why is Trent Kort in and out of her apartment?
1. Introduction 11

Salle sat in front of her stylist at the OKYO Salon, getting her hair colored for the second time this month. She was out for another reason too; to intercept Jen and Zel in the middle of their weeklong shopping binge, courtesy of herself.

I'm in luck, Salle thought, as the co-eds shouldered onto the floor. Two harried looking college boys staggered under the weight of shopping bags, purses and other high-end purchases.

Zel sighed contentedly and flopped into an empty chair.

"Ugh! Salle, you could have gotten us a valet or something to carry our stuff!"

One of the boys groaned.

"Shut up!" Jen hissed, then flashed Salle a bright smile. "Thanks for the trip! We blew almost twenty-five thousand dollars today!"

"Good for you," Salle said encouragingly. "Are you girls having fun?"

Both girls nodded and giggled.

"Okay, now be good ladies and get back to campus tomorrow. You have to show off those clothes, remember?" Salle looked at an embellished logo. "Is that Prada? Nice choice."

Jen squealed and fished out a hand to high-five Salle. Then she noticed what Salle was doing.

"You're coloring your hair again? God, your roots must be growing out so fast; what are you eating? I heard açai berries make your nails and hair grow really fast."

Salle nodded. "Run along now." The girls departed with a flourish, tired young men in tow.

The stylist was finished. "Thanks, Mindi. Color, highlights, lowlights? How much do I owe?"

Salle tipped Mindi generously, paid cash for the service, and bowed out, declining a glass of white wine and Godiva chocolates. Some Americans are truly wonderful to know.

The air was brisk for March. On the way back to her apartment, she inspected her hair in the mirror. No trace of grey roots, no more split ends. Salle pulled her wrap tighter around her frame and pulled out the rectangle of paper that was her key. She laid it against the brick wall and trotted up the three steps. The door swung open, and it was time for some serious plotting. She fluffed her pillow, put it on the couch, and sat on it.

Salle Silver is about twenty-eight years old, of medium height, and of middling complexion. She doesn't know where she was from, who her parents were, or why she has to bribe people these days to get what she wanted. It had been so much simpler in the past. These days, she has to dodge computers, marketers, electronics, credit-card pushers and the United States Postal Service, which had all proved remarkably persistent. About time the ball's in my court, she mused. Time to go to work.


	2. Chapter 1  2: Gibbs Gets Rung

Chapter 1 – 2 Agent Gibbs Gets Rung

"Yeah, Gibbs."

This was actually a crucial time in the bullpen. Things with Chinese drug gangs and smugglers were coming to a head over in Anacostia; DiNozzo and Ziva were already there, but in the process of tangling with some drunk teenagers and needed backup.

There was a pause on the line.

The first thing he heard was giggling. "Heyyy, is Trent there?"

"Trent?" Gibbs shouted into his phone. "How did you get this number?"

"Is this Trent's phone?" More whispers and hushed giggling.

"Who is this?" Gibbs motioned for McGee to start the trace.

"Um, this is Zel. We met…the other Saturday?"

McGee's fingers flew over the keyboard. "Boss, the caller is located in a Georgetown U dorm room."

Zel persisted. "Is this Trent's phone? Where is he?"

"Trent's not here." Gibbs' voice was clipped. "Don't call this number again."

"Wait! How do I get him? She wanted his number?"

Gibbs slammed his open phone onto his desk, by proxy shutting off its power. "McGee, I wanna know who that was, why she called and why the hell she has my number!"

"On it, boss," McGee was curious too, and logged onto Facebook for some answers. Abby would want to be in on this too.

"So," Abby began, with McGee listening on. "We have…Zel Francis and Jennifer Harris. Normal, rich, spoiled Georgetown twenty-somethings without direction or focus." She turned the monitor.

"Zel has a profile picture featuring her in Gucci head-to-toe and Jen has a Myspace-type shot featuring her hip bones. They have status updates mentioning someone called Salle Silver. No information available on her. No Facebook, e-mail, credit card, nothing. Not even fingerprints. And yet she managed to send Zel and Jen on a weeklong shopping trip, and out of a week of classes."

"So this woman has no bank records? Bills? Statements?" McGee was shocked.

"She bought twenty-six thousand dollars in pre-paid debit cards with cash," Abby told him, delighted. "We _do_ have a camera angle on her at the Chase bank."

"Tell me something I don't know, Abs." Gibbs cruised into the lab, Caf-Pow in hand. Abby reached for it.

"Nuh-uh. Show me the footage first." Abby obligingly pulled up the video on the plasma.

"First, we have the steps. She walks in with a duffel bag—totally wrong with her outfit. She goes up to the window, and requests the aforementioned. Teller gives her a weird look."

Abby fast-forwarded a time-lapse over 15 minutes. "She takes out two-hundred and sixty hundred dollar bills and places them down. You can see the manager standing behind her. She completes the transaction, Ink cards in hand, and leaves." The plasma went dark.

"So? What about her ties her to my cell phone?"

"Well, Gibbs, we haven't figured out yet. But we have figured out one thing."

"What?"

"We have Trent Kort."

McGee scoffed. "Weasel-man." The others stared at him. "What? That's Tony's name for him."

Gibbs turned from McGee and faced Abby again. "Let's find her. Bring her in." He turned to leave. "Call Trent Kort—he's going to help us find her."

As soon as Gibbs left, Abby stared at McGee with distaste. "You just had to go there, didn't you?"


End file.
